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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23389570">You Know I Have Been Set Free</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RisingShadows/pseuds/RisingShadows'>RisingShadows</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>1917 (Movie 2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Baking, Fluff, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Tom Blake Lives</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:01:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,140</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23389570</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RisingShadows/pseuds/RisingShadows</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>They make it home, sometimes the memories follow them.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tom Blake/William Schofield</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>69</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>You Know I Have Been Set Free</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>(Title taken from Back's Against the Wall by Judah and the Lion)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There was always a moment when Will first woke that he wasn’t certain what had woken him. The room dark around him and the only sounds are the soft gasps of his own breathing, and then Tom would whimper and he’d turn just enough to find the other’s hands fisted in the sheets as he panted out soft gasps. Pale and sweaty as he twitched through memories twisted by time and his own subconscious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will had found that the easiest way to wake him was with a soft touch and an even softer voice. Barely a murmur as he pulled Tom from his nightmares with a practiced ease that had not always been so practiced. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom would shift, half awake as Will guided his head to his shoulder and curled his arms around the younger man as carefully as he could. Waiting for the soft breath against his shoulder as Tom settled and Will closed his eyes again as he hummed a tuneless sound in Tom’s ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, he’d tell him poems. Half-remembered from his stint as a student while Tom’s snuffled half-asleep in his arms. His voice would always remain the same steady murmur as he waited for the younger man to slip back into sleep and tried his best to avoid jostling him if he ever did move. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom would only vaguely remember it in the morning. A half-memory of fear and then warmth as Will pulled him into his arms. Even then he never once failed to thank him for it in the morning. Always offering a gentle smile whenever he finally dragged himself out of bed. Slinging his arms around Will’s waste or his shoulders as he did and leaning into Will just as Will would lean into him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And on bad days when Tom wasn’t quite up to his usual stories, and chatter Will would try his best to pick up the slack. Even if he never quite managed to reach the same level of excitement in his stories. Tom would always offer that smile he saved just for Will and he’d forget to be embarrassed as he rattled on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On bad days sometimes Tom would forget, Will would find him one hand absently pressed against his stomach. A far away look in his eyes as he blinked back at Will as if he hadn’t expected him to be there. Will is careful when he finds him like that, careful when he pulls him into his arms leaning him against his chest while cradling the younger mans head in one hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Careful that he doesn’t break him anymore than he already is. Will is simply there to pull him back together and hope that one day he may not need Will to be there at all. Tom is adamant that even if he no longer needs Will to pull him out of those bad days he will always need Will. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom was always a romantic at heart. Will himself wouldn’t have known if Tom hadn’t dragged him home with him. One hand tight around his wrist and wide smile as he dragged him up the path to his house and introduced him to his mother. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will should have known then that Tom had no intention of letting him leave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As it was, Will had always considered the younger man something akin to a force of nature. Tom had arrived at the eighth like a whirlwind. Dragging Will out of his own rhythm and quickly claiming a position that Will didn’t think had existed before then. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Tom had nearly died, and so many others had and sometimes knowing that the other is still there and alive isn’t enough to quell his own nightmares. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom had been the one to decide on the arrangement. When either of them had bad days some plans simply had to be canceled, rescheduled to a better date. Sometimes they’d simply lay in bed. Wrapped in each others arms while Tom reminded Will that he was still alive. That the blood that had coated his hands hadn’t done him in and he had no intention of leaving anytime soon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some days, Tom would drag Will out back to the cherry tree that sat atop the ridge behind their house and he’d sit them down below it. Will’s back pressed against the bark while he laid his head in the others lap and offered him one of those soft smiles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On bad days it was as if Tom forgot his name. Will would turn into Love no matter the conversation and Tom would keep Will within arms length. Always close enough to touch, close enough to drag Will to him, close enough to let Will press his forehead against Tom’s. Close enough for the two of then to simply exist within each other’s arms whenever he decided he wanted them too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will had found very quickly that he couldn’t seem to say no to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The best days, in Will’s opinion, were the ones where Tom decided he wanted something to do with his hands. He’d drag Will to the kitchen and set about rifling through the cabinets till he’d decided on something he’d like to bake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Occasionally he’d drag Will to the nearest market for whatever they were missing. Braving the outdoors with their hands hidden as well as they could be between them. Fingers laced together as they walked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom would set about baking, nearly always from scratch while Will watched and tried his best to keep the mess to minimum. The recipes were nearly always Mrs. Blake’s, Tom trying his best to copy them down from childhood memories when they both knew he could simply walk over and ask the woman. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will wasn’t usually all that much help when it came to the recipes. His own mother had never let him help in the kitchen, always shooing him off when she called his sister in. Tom on the other hand had told Will plenty of stories about his previous attempts at baking, some more successful than others. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that was beside the point. The best days where the days Tom decided he’d like yet another attempt at baking. Some more successful than others and nearly always ending in the two and much of the kitchen coated in flour or some other ingredient for whatever Tom had chosen to bake that day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom laughing as he licked batter off Will’s cheek and dragged the other into his arms as the two stood there. The kitchen always a mess around them despite Will’s best attempts to keep it clean and Tom completely unrepentant as he offered Will his most innocent smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The best days ended with the two wrapped in each others arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And occasionally with a small fire when they misjudged just how long Tom’s newest attempt needed to bake. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Some more Blakefield fluff everyone! I have this tiny head canon that while Tom is good at baking he is terrible at following a recipe and just wings it a lot! Which makes new attempts at things questionable. </p><p>This is just some more of the boys being in love, bit of kind of angst at the start and then just Will being smitten.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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